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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26864935">Lieutenant Chekov</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrairieDawn/pseuds/PrairieDawn'>PrairieDawn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Promotion, Prompt Fill, minor injury</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:29:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>662</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26864935</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrairieDawn/pseuds/PrairieDawn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Pavel Chekov is having a good bad day.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lieutenant Chekov</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Today's prompt:  Chekov, Captain's Chair, promotion.</p><p>Short and sweet. (with a little saltiness about set design)</p><p>This one's in the AOS Prairieverse (same 'verse as Bigger Than Elvis)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Chekov, my office. You too, Mr. Spock.”</p><p>It was a slow day of primary star mapping, with no stops scheduled and nothing on long range sensors. Pavel’s arm was still in a sling out of an abundance of caution, the bones having knit well but, in the doctor’s words, “Wrists have too many little bits held together by soft tissue to heal easy.” He prided himself on his newfound ability to efficiently operate his station one handed, though he was a little worried about being called into the Captain’s office along with the XO.  He was thinking so hard about following them briskly, but not too eagerly that he slipped badly, turned his ankle, and landed hard on the edge of the Captain’s chair.</p><p>There was a brief, painless moment of shock before his brain shut off all input except the overwhelming protest from both broken wrist and possibly newly broken ankle. He swore loudly and colorfully in Russian and tried to pull himself back to his feet, bracing himself on the chair with his good arm, but the ankle refused to bear weight and he dropped awkwardly into the chair.</p><p>Just in time for the Captain to pop his head out of his office and stare at him. And there was no way he could get out of the chair--unless he were to just slither gracelessly to the floor. “You’re not being promoted to Captain today, you know,” the captain told him.</p><p>“Sorry sir,” he managed to squeak. “I slipped on the stairs.”</p><p>“Uhura, would you call Dr. McCoy up here?” Captain Kirk said casually, then raised his voice a little.  “Spock, let’s just do this out here.”</p><p>“Do what, sir?” He resisted the urge to squirm in the chair. </p><p>Spock reached the Captain’s side.  He had a small, flat box in his hands. “I recommend--”</p><p>“I know Spock, make this quick, before McCoy gets up here and ruins our fun. Now, ordinarily, I’d have you stand to receive your pips,” he reached for Chekov’s collar, something metallic tinkling faintly in his palm, “but under the circumstances, Lieutenant Chekov, I believe it would be best if you stay where you are.”</p><p>“Yes, sir, of course, sir.” He blinked.  The pain was making it hard to concentrate. “Lieutenant?”</p><p>“You’ve been in grade plenty long enough, and your actions on our last ground mission saved the lives of three fellow crew members and over a dozen civilians. Actions, I might add, that came from thorough and intelligent problem solving, not just brute force bravery. You will make a great Lieutenant, Mr. Chekov.”</p><p>“Thank you, sir.” His face split into a grin even as tears began to pour down his cheeks.  </p><p>Fortunately, at that moment the turbolift door slid open and McCoy trotted down to the Captain’s chair, medkit in hand. “What do we have here?”</p><p>“I missed the step,” Pavel admitted, bracing himself for the berating to follow.</p><p>Instead, a hypo hissed near his ear, leaving him blissfully floaty. “Whoever designed Constitution class bridges ought to be forced to walk a klick barefoot over Legos,” the doctor said instead. The medscanner warbled pleasantly, like a pretty bird. “Good news is it’s sprained, not broken.  Bad news is it’s sprained, not broken. Cartilage regenerates like shit. Let’s get this boot on you and then it’s off to sickbay with you, Ensign.”</p><p>“It’s Lieutenant now, sir!” Pavel blurted merrily.</p><p>“Is it? Well then, Lieutenant, let’s see if that new rank makes you steadier on your feet. Jim, a hand, he’s higher than a kite and I don’t want him to fall again.” Pavel felt himself being lifted to his feet, his arms draped one over each of his superior officers’ shoulders. “Damn pretentious architects designing a working vessel to impress visiting diplomats, it’s a wonder any of you still have working joints.”</p><p>It might not be the most auspicious promotion, but at least Pavel would have a memorable story to tell his grandchildren someday.</p>
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